Honor Among Thieves
by Th' hbt MAn
Summary: The Familiar known as Gaiden Link, a Geohound and a thief, incites a bar fight and unknowingly sets off a chain of events that bring him onto The Stage to face the shadow of the past as the entire world watches. My first fic, please R&R.
1. Games of Chance and Insurance Bills

"Hit me." It's the perfect line to start a story on. It says so much in such a small sentence. It came from the grace of tongue that belonged to Chandler, innkeeper of the _Fool's Gold_, a multi-level bar & grille with accommodations and a complimentary continental breakfast. It drew many wanderers to its seedy indoors, known for billiards, cards and bar fights in a fog of cigar smoke, beer, waitresses and dim-at-best candlelight. Many of the bar fights included a young rogue named Gaiden. Chandler was always willing to allow Gaiden's fights, as afterwards business boomed. The surrounding villages craved gossip, and Gaiden was always willing to oblige to pay for the damages. Now, Chandler and Gaiden were locked in a vicious battle of wits on a card table tucked into a dark corner up the steps, next to the bar, across from the kitchen door, furthest from the doors and the round tables of the _Fool's Gold_. The game? Blackjack.

"Chandler, you can't hit on a twenty," Gaiden told him, taking a large swig of beer from his mug. As he swallowed, he palmed the top card of the deck. Gaiden replaced his cigarette, pulling one out of his pack of smokes with his lips as he set down his mug. His emerald eyes shone behind the strands of brown hair. 

Gaiden was a well-built guy, like he worked hard and often. There was nothing truly spectacular about his physiology beyond that (his lungs and liver were already pretty much shot, as far as anyone could tell), but there was one very strange element: a three-foot monkey tail sticking out of his ass. He wore a tight navy blue tunic with gold trim and white padded patches at the armpits over black underalls. His hands were wrapped in a silvery white gauze as a wristband. His belt was really more like a heavy leather brown piece buckled closely over his hips (extending down to his knees) with cargo pockets and sheathes. He closely resembled a soldier. His broadsword was in the same style sheath, resting next to the stairway up to the _Fool's Gold_ rooms. His partner was taking a nap there himself, so Gaiden decided to gamble their latest pay.

__

"Hit me," the innkeeper said in a dangerous voice as smoke blew out onto the table, shading the pot from the chandelier swinging from the rafters above. He was clad in a very dirty white business shirt, suspenders, brown-tanned skin pants and a green bandana. He hid a great double-barrel shotgun under the table and a tiny knife in a sheath near his cuffs. 

Gaiden shrugged, took the cig out of his mouth and dealt the innkeeper a card. Chandler took the card, turned up a corner, swore worse than you or I ever have, and threw the cards on the table. He pushed his bets out towards Gaiden, who didn't seem at all concerned with the winnings. He was standing tall and leaning up over the table to look at Chandler's cards.

"Hmmm... let's see... well, I'm no calculator, but it looks like you've got twenty-two," Gaiden said, straining over the table as he swept all his coin earnings over to his bank at the edge of the round table. He shrugged, and opened up his large backpack to sweep the earnings in. There was a sudden rush to snuff cigars and to order drinks. Several of the patrons of the _Fool's Gold_ card tables looked close to tears. Gaiden had cleaned them all out, and done a damn good job of it. One particularly old, retired patron was consoling Chandler.

"Here, Chandler, lemme buy ya a drink...." The patron looked sore and concerned, having taken heavy hits himself, but suddenly found himself wearing a mask of rage, self-disgust and loathing. "Gaiden! You cocky punk, you ripped me off!"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Gaiden said, looking innocent and confused as he closed up his backpack and slung it over his shoulder. "Bloody hell, you senile geezer-" Gaiden was interrupted as he raised his hand in innocence, and a long string of playing cards suddenly flew out of his wrist. Gaiden didn't pause to look stunned; he took up his dagger and lanced towards the accuser's large, ancient magnum at his shoulder. The patron was old, yes, but not quite senile just yet. He whipped his magnum out of its holster before Gaiden's thieves' dagger simply ripped the holster apart, and made to fire through Gaiden's armpit. Gaiden punched forward with his free hand, catching the patron in the jaw and slashing down towards the magnum. He cleaved it in half, and the patron fell cold on the wood floor.

"You'll pay for that, you dirty Familiar!" Seconds later, Gaiden fell next to him. Another player, one who was closest to tears (Kudgle), had taken up Chandler's shotgun before the innkeeper could and had slammed the butt down on the back of Gaiden's neck. Gaiden fell to the floor, and rolled out of the way before a shell filled the hardwood under him with holes like Swiss cheese. 

_Familiar... they use it like a curse word,_ Gaiden was driving himself to madness, rolling onto his feet and taking the leg of a chair with his prehensile tail, he switched it into his left hand with his tail and brought vengeance swiftly down on Kudgle. The chair shattered in Gaiden's hands, and Kudgle fell unconscious on top of the elderly nobleman.

"Your cudgel form needs work, _Kudgle,"_ Gaiden said with the cold, cynical tone of arrogance that he reserved specifically for his many victims, at the moment speaking to his latest: Kudgle, the one playing with things that don't belong to him and trying to crack roguish skull with them. There was but one more, a man who was simply trying to stop the violence, and whom Gaiden would later come to praise. The sideline bet he had made on his odds with the bartender was just that, a sideline bet, and one that Gaiden didn't know about. Gaiden took up his longsword in his tail, swinging it into his right hand, letting the scabbard simply fly off and smash into the offender's face, knocking him back against the wall. Gaiden moved to strike with all the skill and dexterity he had, solely geared towards personal wealth and personal safety. 

Gaiden had a murderous glint in his eye, driven now by his own passion. There was a crashing sound, but it made no difference. Gaiden was a predator, his prey an older male, maybe forty, and preparing to fight to the death with his bare hands. The prey was a fairly experienced fighter and rogue itself, and Gaiden suddenly realized that he knew it well: _it was Chandler_. Gaiden faltered at the realization that was about to execute one of the few he called friends. Just long enough for his rage to subside, and for vandal that had shattered the window to come swooping down. With the war-cry of a falcon, the fastest thing on earth (and Gaiden's closest compadré) scraped its talons across Gaiden's forearm through gauze and flesh. Gaiden dropped his sword, and collapsed onto a wall with it, sweating from the exhaustion of his extremes.

"Chandler... I'm so sorry...."

"I know, boy. Come on, come back to the kitchens, you don't want to stay out here...."

**__**

"Haha, Skye, you're a guardian angel," Chandler said, laughing as his waitresses continually poured hot water and bubble bath into the bathtub that Gaiden occupied in the rear of the kitchens. Gaiden would be much safer than in their room, when he was back near Chandler's room, with dishwashers and bakers to keep an eye on him all night. He hadn't exactly made friends back there in the _Fool's Gold_, specifically those that bet against him in the bar fight (the two he had fought were still out cold). 

"Yes, Gaiden oversteps his limits often, but he has luck and skill on his side," Skye said, a talking bird that interrupts more than he helps and accompanies Gaiden on his journeys.

"Is he still out cold?" Chandler asked.

"Yes. He won't remember what happened when he wakes up." Skye said in his bold English accent, preening his feathers in the conversation. He preferred to be well-groomed.

"Will he wake up in time to get out of the bathtub?"

"I'd say not. He has no shame, and no regrets." 

"Hey, you think we should fill him in on what happened when he wakes up?"

"No, he will most likely guess at his own shortcomings."

"Well, I'm going to bed then. His clothes'll be done by tomorrow. G'night Skye."

"Sleep well, Chandler. I'll have a midnight snack. You know, for an inn with so many fine waitresses, you have quite a few rodents."

"...Shaddup."

** __**

Gaiden stirred in his sleep. He was having a nightmare, stuck in the cold bathtub with backpack hanging above the surface of the water by the useless faucet that Skye was perched on. He slept with his head under one wing, which was reminiscent of Gaiden, who used his arms as a pillow and covers. He was shaking and trying as hard as he could to wake up, but that wasn't part of the dream. It always played out like this. 

Gaiden was dreaming of blazing golden fire and eternal jet shadow, of a force of nature that came down upon him, moving through the air like Death itself. It took the form of a great and terrible swordsman, untouched by even a single drop of rain, the way he moved was simply poetry in motion, flawless in every aspect and so fast Gaiden could not follow it. Gaiden was splattered with mud and soaked in freezing rain as thunder rang out above, the blade master casting out flames upon his victims from his sword, stealing their souls to his own purposes. Gaiden had but a shattered longblade as his defense against the onslaught, fighting valiantly but vainly, feeling his soul purged from his body in a blast of shadowed gold.

_No... _Gaiden could hear his own thoughts, watching the images painted on his memory._ No... Meadow.... _His tone suddenly changed to the deepest passion of his spirit, from grief to unending fury. _Solanthanor...._

"HOW COULD YOU...!" Gaiden stirred in his sleep. Skye suddenly awoke.

****

The crow of a Cucco suddenly rang out across the roads leading to the _Fool's Gold_, and far to close to the morning wake-up call was Oliver. He was close enough to watch Gaiden nearly wake from He covered his ears, and looked over to the side. Another, Caesar Tantalus, was making a few last-minute adjustments to the chains that were latched to the hull of the _Shadow Fox_ and fed through an open window into the kitchen of the _Fool's Gold_. Caesar Tantalus gave a wave of the hand, and Olly pushed forward on the throttle. 

All at once they went to a cruising speed of about 300 km/h at forty feet in the air, incredibly low-flying for an airship of its size. Gaiden awoke to the sound of the legs of his bathtub scraping across the tile floor, and screaming in surprise as he was quickly dragged straight through a _wall_. Skye awoke in shock, flapping madly to get off the bathtub as they were in air, cruising along away from the _Fool's Gold_. 

Gaiden began laughing hysterically as he looked up, saw that he was suspended by a dramatic and overly complicated network of chains attached to an airship. He was shivering in a flying bathtub, covering his nekkedness and framing his mouth to shout up at Olly. He looked down to see Chandler trying his hardest to keep up, dodging giant splashes of water like rain during a hurricane and yelling up about the missing side of his inn. 

Gaiden could only laugh himself unconscious, reaching inside the soaked backpack still on the faucet and taking out a large sack of coins and jewels, looking inside and tossing it down to Chandler, then repeating the process. He said his good-byes to Chandler, who looked royally pissed. The innkeeper bent down to take his payment, getting hit in his robe by the remainder of Gaiden's bath-water. All he could think of was the full-house he'd have for months afterwards. He said his good-byes back as Gaiden was reeled up, the catch of the day.


	2. Perfect Strangers

"Tantalus?" Oliver asked, looking downright befuddled as he starting cranking a wheel, slowly pulling the flying bathtub in tow up to the small, makeshift docking crane. The cords that suspended Gaiden wouldn't hold for very much longer. "Why did we just drag a bathtub through the wall of a giant house?"

"Chandler beat me in the spread," Caesar Tantalus yelled nonchalantly through the open window to the captain's office as he checked various maps of the Continent of Mist. He busied himself dropping the Alka-Seltzer miracle drug equivalent into a glass of straight vinegar, and slugging down the overflowing science project as fast as he could.

"What were you betting on?" Olly asked, still reeling in the tub. He jumped in surprise as the cords gave way slightly, and Gaiden yelled in fear, now holding onto the cords for dear life.

Oliver wore the uniform of a young schoolboy, with a gray jacket over a fine white shirt, with black shorts, gray leggings and white socks. His skin was almost a very pale yellow-green, with patched grafts of a tough bottle green cloth here and there. He wore a white headband and had dreadlocks of thick red hair. He was a quiet, shy conformist, though extremely smart and disciplined.

"Gaiden."

"You were betting _against_ me?!" Gaiden yelled, outraged as he slung his backpack over his shoulder and climbed up the cord. He jumped onto one of the many sandbags that lined the hull and rolled over the rail and onto the deck. Olly covered his eyes.

"Well, I never thought you'd win against the old guy with the gun," Tantalus explained, shrugging as he walked out onto the deck. Gaiden spilled his backpack out across the deck, and Tantalus grinned at their new riches.

Caesar Tantalus wore a bottle green cloak and hood, with a maroon jerkin hiding a shirt of mail sewn under it. He wore a white shirt and tough brown pants otherwise. His entire form was not memorable, simply as though you had never met him. He constantly wore several rings on each finger, none matching the others and many seeming to give off a faint glow. You had the distinct impression at every glance that there was more to him than he would have you believe, as though he bent your will towards him. None truly could describe him if he didn't want them to.

"Dammit it's cold up here," Gaiden commented as he pulled on his clothes. "You'd think Tantalus'd figured out how to get central heating by now."

"Shut up." Tantalus said, going over to reel up the bathtub. The sandbag Gaiden had loosened suddenly unraveled itself from the post of the railing, and dragged another 100 pounds of gravel down with it into the bathtub. There was the sound of rushing air and then the force of a bomb as the bathtub plummeted and shattered on the rocky slopes below. There was an eerie silence where nobody made a sound as each went over to the side to look down at all the dust that had been kicked up.

"I didn't do it."

"Yeah you did."

"Shut up, no I didn't."

"Both of you shut up and get a dustpan."

"Don't tell me to shut up!"

"Ow! Quit it!"

"Dammit! No hitting below the belt!"

"I HATE YOU!!!"

"I wanna go back home!"

_...Folks, do you see now why I prefer birds?_ Skye told himself as he watched from his perch on the mainstay.

"Dammit, it's still cold up here," Gaiden said, wrapped in a spare sail. Skye was perched on his shoulder.

"Well, what'd you expect?" Olly told him. "We're about a mile up in the air."

"I fold," Tantalus told Skye, casting down his hand and pushing a pile of crackers towards the bird. Gaiden began to snack on their winnings before Skye nicked him right in the ear. 

"Ow! Skye, cut it out! Quit it!" Gaiden yelled, pushing Skye off his shoulders. Olly began to laugh as he polished his fine swallow and ate shish-kabobs cooked over the lamp before then.

"Where are we going to?" Olly asked.

"Death Mountain, thereabouts," Tantalus replied, taking a large swig of wine from a bottle. 

"Romeo Township?" Olly asked, suddenly hanging on his Godfather's every word. Olly was obsessed with Romeo Township and its village, Kakariko. It had always been his dream to make a great pilgrimage to become a Dragon Knight, a highly disciplined soldier of Romeo Township, highly proficient in spears, lances and bows. A unique quality of their skills was their ability to jump high into the air and come crashing down upon their enemies. Olly was studying on and off himself.

"Yeah. I'm meeting with the Regent there. There's supposed to be a bash happening soon, too."

"Commemorating the Death Siege?" Skye asked hopefully. Their troupe had fought in that battle, and had nearly won it for them.

"I remember the Regent!" Olly suddenly burst out, grinning. "He was so dignified, but bored with his job. He actually reminded me of you, Skye."

"Skye's not dignified. He's just senile and mangy. Ow, dammit Skye, cut it out!" Gaiden shot his mouth off and Skye began rapping on his head with his beak. Gaiden rolled over as Tantalus started booming out laughter. Gaiden covered himself with the sail and swatted away Skye, then quickly retired to bed to nurse his wounds. A battle fought bravely.

Gaiden busied himself in his four-poster above Olly's bed, stripping to his boxers and jumping up under the covers. He quickly cursed, and pulled the large hardcover book out from under his skull. A welt was probably starting to form, he told himself.

"'Royal Dictionary, Thesaurus & Encyclopedia of the Courts of Hylia," Gaiden read the title aloud, figuring it was one of the books Olly read constantly. He figured why not, he needed something to do. He flipped to the Gs first, simply thumbing his way through the pages. One word stood out amongst all the rest.

__

Geohound (jee-o'hound) n. 

__

1. Uneducated, adventuresome and otherwise wild vagabond wanderers, thieves, murderers or worse, Geohounds are rangers of the wild that perform tasks of roguish, outlawed, underhand quality for civilized noblemen. Above none in culture, etiquette and intelligence. 

__

Gaiden knew these stereotypes all too well, and made his way by the shifty natures outlined in the Royal Court BS Book, and by his own skill with the blade. He sighed heavily at his own expense and pessimism, and made to close the book, but at the beginning of F section another word caught his eye.

_Familiar (Fa-mil'yer) _n. 

__

1. An offspring of man and another species. Distrusted by both of the races that sired them, Familiars are creatures of passion, driven to the extremes of emotion and are often driven to madness by imbalances in their blood. Possessing Animalian physical abnormalities sharply contrasting otherwise Hume-like features. More beast than man, and not to be trusted.

__

'You'll pay for that, you dirty Familiar!' Gaiden remembered Kudgle saying that. Otherwise normal, but this single curious factor branded him an outcast as much if not more than being a Geohound did. Gaiden became infuriated by all the cruelty he had faced, recalling it to recent memory. He quickly through the book against the hull, as heavy as it was, and after a sickening crack the book fell to the floor. Gaiden sighed heavily again, pushing open the port window next to his face and enjoying a cooling breeze. He figured Skye would fly in and perch sooner or later, and he found he slept better when his scout and partner was perched next to him with his small head under his wing. Gaiden turned around and turned the lantern down to a small flame, and the wind snuffed it out for him. Gaiden reclined, and lay awake for a while. He heard the flutter of Skye's wings, though his eyes were closed, and quickly found comfort. For a little while.

_It was more real than ever before, the way Gaiden's nightmares played out. He saw himself walking swiftly uphill under tree-cover, following muddy footsteps as he was splattered with freezing cold rain and wind that pierced every inch of his skin like needles. He bore only a longblade in his hand, the enchanted steel glowing faintly blue as rain ran down through the carved lines that formed figures of ancient letters and runes. _

Gaiden suddenly came to the plateau of the hill where the trees became scarce. The Plateau of Memories was a ruin of long-abandoned monuments of an ancient race, housing an Idol sacred to the village at the foot of the hill. 

"Sol-a-a-a-n!" Gaiden began to call out, running through the ruins as the wind and rain blew fiercer and harder than ever. "Mead-o-o-o-w!" There was a fell voice on the wind now, cold, arrogant and without compassion as it laughed, sharp and terrible. Gaiden was soaked to the bone, clad only in cloth, but he took no cover. His sharp hearing picked up a crunch against gravel and a war-cry, and he rushed towards it.

Gaiden yelled out in shock, and ran up towards the body of one of the villagers. It was Bart, one of the bards of the inn, and Gaiden's trainer. There were five others strewn about, all slain but this one, their blood spilling over the scorched earth. He was fatally wounded himself.

"Link..." Bart spoke to Gaiden, using Gaiden's shoulder to pull himself up to whisper into Gaiden's ear. Blood ran down his chin from his mouth, but he didn't care. He was lacerated and a corpse already. "Run... just go. Don't try to face him...."

"Bart! Please, tell me, where's Solan?" Gaiden yelled into Bart's face, holding him by the collar with a quiver in his voice. Bart hesitated and began to raise his arm, but it fell limp. His eyes rolled back, and he had passed on.

"Dammit!" Gaiden cursed for the first time in his life, and closed Bart's eyes. Gaiden took up his sword, and began to shift his eyes in each direction, strafing around the pillars, trying to find what had slaughtered his friends. He suddenly heard a screech of shock and pain, and ran towards it. It was followed by the same laughter, and Gaiden was sure that the laughter was what had butchered his elders. He didn't realize who the laughter belonged to.

Gaiden's eyes went wide in shock as he saw the fair Meadow standing atop a ruin, whose beauty truly rivaled even the Princess Zelda of tales far-off. Her fiancé, and Gaiden's brother, Solanthanor, stood before her, his eyes glowing with ferocity. His sword shone with fiery colors of gold and orange dimmed by the rain. He moved with such speed as Gaiden had never before witnessed and could barely follow as he quickly stabbed Meadow through the stomach and let her slide down towards the hilt, suspended in midair like some deranged puppet. Solan owned that laughter, that laughter which haunted Gaiden still as he watched Meadow's limp body slide off the sword and fall ten feet down to the stones below. 

Solan laughed again, and jumped to the ground himself. He rushed towards Gaiden, and Gaiden felt his right backhand begin to burn as he raised his sword in defense, still unbelieving and unwilling to truly fight his brother. He was amazed as his brother moved untouched by the rain, as though he had a phenomenal meticulous nature and controlled how his every cell moved. Gaiden felt the cold cut of enchanted steel and felt the wound burn as it was assaulted by the elements, and barely had snapped his blade towards his own clan, and felt it simply get batted away. The next thing he knew, he was lying on the ground, grieving in his last moments of consciousness before what he could felt was his death. Truly, it was Gaiden's_ birth from the ashes. And all he could think was_

Why...? _The next morning, Gaiden heeded Bart's words and left. _

"**Dammit!**" Suddenly, Gaiden awoke from his nightmares with more passion than he had ever felt. _I was almost able to forget...._ It quickly turned to grief.

"Wake up, you lousy sacks of crap!" Tantalus yelled, using a triangle right in the ear to wake Olly and Gaiden. Skye was out grabbing some breakfast. "Which one of you dicks left the sail up all night?"

"It was Olly man, I was in bed way before any of you," Gaiden yawned as Tantalus rang Olly's head a few more times.

"Ga-i-i-i-den! Why'd you tell him _that?_" Olly yelled and kicked Gaiden right in the ass. Bottom bunk had its privileges. 

"Shut up Olly, or I'll send your ass skipping down Lollypop Lane," Gaiden said, jumping down onto the floor and starting to pull his underalls on.

"Whoa there little boy, what do you think you're doing?" Tantalus said to Gaiden, pulling his fine robes of green with red and gold designs. 

"Getting dressed, and I'd prefer it if you didn't stare," Gaiden said, royally pissed. Right at the crack of noon, too.

"Hold on. Since Olly left the sail up all night, we're only about ten minutes away from Romeo Township. Death Mountain's right there. I could spit to it," Tantalus pointed out the window, and Gaiden turned to see a flurry of feathers whisk past his eye-line. He jumped in shock as Skye took a perch on his bed. "Get your clown suit on, we need to make some money."

"Come on Boss, not the clown suit," Gaiden tried to reason, but even then he knew it was hopeless. He groaned as he grabbed a sleeveless shirt of four giant checkers of white and blue, with huge, green, padded overalls with yellow stars all over. He combed his hair far over one half of his face as he pulled the white gloves on with the yellow silk frills. He finally put a mask over the open side of his face, the top half white and the bottom black. He looked in the mirror.

"I hope it's okay to be a stoic clown," Skye chuckled to himself. 

Within minutes they were over the Court of Romeo Township, and preparing to land. 


	3. Enter The Stage

_The Shadow Fox_ was a very small skiff freighter built for high speed over long distances. Its mainsails were navy blue over a shining pine hull, with borders painted to a fine yellow-gold. It was the first operating airship that Caesar Tantalus had built as an engineer, and afterwards The Tantalus Airship Syndicate came to control business and politics around the world through a shrewd system of corporate takeovers and barely-legitimate dealings in the underground world of organized crime. Caesar Tantalus sat at the head of the Syndicate, but was truly a strange one: he didn't hide in his mansions and behind laws and politic backings. He was world-renowned and meeting his acquaintance became pandemic, so long as you weren't too normal.

The design of _The Shadow Fox_ was centered around its compact size and high degree of maneuverability. Several motors and pressurized engines propelled the ship through the air like a knife through butter, with nine different sails altogether. The three mainsails were huge and cupped themselves over the deck, rather like the orchestra hall of Sydney, Australia. These were tightly bound back with several cords attaching to the rail and the above-deck, under which was housed the quarters, the office, the brig and the engine room. On the sides were cannon-windows and sandbags. Neighboring them were two extending sails folded into the below-deck, tightly bound to the hull, that caught updrafts and allowed for quick turns and high-speed take-offs, often used in conjunction with the main pressurized engines. Lining the hull were several attachments besides the lift: multi-directional rotors that elevated the ship, forced it to hover or gave extra propellant. 

Right now, those rotors were slowly dropping _The Shadow Fox_ through the clouds, descending upon Romeo Township, magically suspended on the slopes of Azrael's Peak, the short, jagged neighbor to Death Mountain. Wonder was in the eyes of the Drake Squires, as they were so called, in training to be Dragon Knights. Their wooden pole-arms were pointing down now as _The Shadow Fox _fell through the air. They jumped out of the way as the sandbags suddenly dropped to the ground in the main courtyard, ringed by hedges and flowers and shielded from the rain of the nearby waterfalls that were on both sides of the city. Several large towers and walkways played a big part in keeping the streets of the inner city pleasant and dry.

"Come on," Tantalus motioned to Olly to follow him below deck and down the hall to exit through a trapdoor hidden in the circular back side of the hull. 

"Whoa, where do you think you are going?" Skye asked Gaiden as he perched carefully on the clown's shoulder. 

"To take the stairs. You don't catch on well, do you?"Gaiden shot back, annoyed at having no depth perception through his mask.

"No, _they're _taking the stairs. We need to nail the ship down. On _both sides,_ little boy," Skye said, taking a rope in his beak and nicking Gaiden to force him to turn around.

"Well what do you expect me to do, jump off a side?" Gaiden finished lamely, throwing his hands out as if to try to present the obvious solution in a sarcastic form.

"_Yeah_." 

"You can't be serious!" Gaiden yelled, but Skye nicked him again in the ear and took off, switching the cable to his talons and chasing Gaiden over to the edge. Gaiden was forced to jump over and roll under the ship as most of the court chuckled at his predicament. Gaiden swore vengeance and began nailing down the ship with Skye's rope as the falcon draped the eight other ropes over the sides. Gaiden muttered to himself as already some of the Drake Squires began to throw Rupees at his feet for "a fantastic performance." Gaiden swore again as he nailed down the ropes one-by-one. On the last rope near the back engines, he suddenly became aware of footsteps clicking across the marble stone floors, approaching him from behind. He paused.

"Nice to see you again, Gaiden," a softer voice said, but it held some of the same arrogance and mischief that has played its way through the story so far. Gaiden turned around to see who was calling him, and he suddenly built a stony expression around his face. He didn't realize how hard that was to do as a clown.

"Aria DeSanti," Gaiden remarked casually in full arrogance and mild dislike. The woman wore a strangely fine jet dress that seemed to be sewn for more practical use. The top was black, with a red outline section beginning just below the armpits and cutting off suddenly at the ribs. It split just below the sternum, almost like a coat, (the lightweight, padded, nylon fabric sewn into the inside was red) leaving a small, dark navy, skintight sleeveless undershirt that left her abdomen exposed, with khaki, almost orange shorts. 

"Looks like you've made some modifications since the last time I saw you," the woman said, looking up at _The Shadow Fox_, mainly at the unhidden armaments gunner seats along the bow, and the smaller, pseudo-bazooka station at the stern. Of course, these are crude, almost art-like Industrial Revolution interpretations of modern weaponry. "Lot of extra weight in the cannons."

"I've made the necessary adjustments," Gaiden said monotonously, stepping onto the final spike and driving it into the ground with his weight as he leaned over against the ship. He cleaned the sweat and dirt from his hands with a handkerchief, and returned his gloves.

"Sorry, I didn't mean it that way," she said as though she were trying to patch a few things, but with no real expectancy for that to happen.

"Yeah, okay," Gaiden said rather as though he didn't believe a word she said. Aria looked startled for a moment, but quickly regained her bearings.

"Nice outfit," she remarked. "Another one of mine?" Not even I have any idea where that came from. She turned and walked away, making another acquaintance. Gaiden shook his head and looked down at the ground, closing his eyes to rest. Skye quickly fluttered down onto his shoulder.

"What was that all about?" Skye asked, preening his armor-like black feathers as he spoke.

"Aria's in town," Gaiden said, starting to turn to follow Tantalus and Olly inside.

The rhythmic harmony of an ocarina rang through the courts of Romeo, complimented by the jingling exchange of coins, conversation and laughter. Gaiden was playing a dagger as an instrument, a hollow blade with holes drilled into it, the mouthpiece at the hilt. Several accounts of tiny rainbow marbles were suspended comically in midair above the notes by Gaiden's breath, his fingers moving between them so quickly that the marbles dropped but a little. Gaiden was twisting his upper and lower torso to the beat while keeping his stance almost unchanging besides a few strafes and steps backwards. He was dodging the dives and rakes of Skye as the falcon feigned attempts to attack Gaiden, pretending to be swayed by the music. He was rather bored as Gaiden tapped him once again on the back of the neck with his finger as a test of skill.

All at once (and all too soon for the spectators), the sun set behind Death Mountain, and Gaiden snatched off the five marbles one by one, ending his sonata with that finale. Skye landed on his shoulder, now entirely unruffled by the absence of a requiem, and Gaiden's hands took up the blade and threw it at a target he had previously nailed to a tree-trunk. It barely made it inside the third ring. Gaiden shrugged wearily, bowed very low, and collapsed onto his back, miming his own wound by the dagger-ocarina. There was an applause and shouts for encore (as though Gaiden and Skye would proceed until sun_rise_), and many coins and jewels were dropped into a box. It was, as always, less than they had hoped for.

"Will you be performing at the banquet tomorrow?" A middle-aged bystander asked kindly as the others quickly departed. "You might get better pay if they can't avoid you."

Gaiden laughed but shook his head. He wanted to be out of this town as fast as he could, and he hoped Tantalus's meetings with the Regent Mattias were over. Then again, he had said something about a party... Gaiden sighed heavily as the man left, and he latched shut the box full of donations and retrieved his dagger. He left the target. It'd be there in the morning. He walked back over to the ship and tugged on the knob at the top of the door set in the hull of _The Shadow Fox_. It knocked against a wooden lobster tied to the hull as it swung down with the red carpet, and Gaiden climbed inside.

Before long, Oliver and Tantalus joined him. "I saw you from the library," Oliver remarked. "You went out with class, even when they stiffed you."

"About as much class as you could have a clown, anyway," Tantalus said through his teeth, tearing off pieces of meat from his hot-plate. Steak, mushrooms, potatoes. Skye's hunting quarry, strangely enough.

"Yeah," Gaiden said off-handed, rather detached. He was hugging his knees, leaning against the mast of the first sail and staring up at the stars as they began to shine on the midnight blue that trailed the golden glare of the long-gone sunset. No one seemed to mind. In fact, these were the times that he liked best. "Hey, did anyone see that older guy hanging around after my act? Darker robes, grayer hair, charismatic snob. I got the impression he was more low-brow, though."

"Hume?" Tantalus asked. Gaiden nodded. "Wyborn. He's a foreign Magus. Talked business with him. He's the Regent's latest advisor. You should be interested in him."

"Why's that?"

"Because he's watching you right now, and he's understood every word you said."Gaiden's head whipped around to the open window, and he still stood there. Gaiden's eyes narrowed.

Gaiden didn't wait for the dreams to come that night. He stood up a few minutes after they all ate, and excused himself. He retired down the stairs and opened up the closet. He knew it was a lame premise, but he figured that it would work anyway. He grabbed a few pillows and stuck it under his covers. It was a lame premise, Gaiden knew, but it would work anyway. He set its "head" against the wall instead of near the window, afraid Skye might guess at his intentions and see through the charade once he perched on the poster. 

Gaiden took a running leap and scrambled up the ladder to his bunk, sliding forward through the open port and out onto the court. He grabbed onto one of the ropes he nailed down earlier, and slowly made his way down to a soft landing. He wanted to be fast before Skye returned from his midnight snack. Gaiden looked down solemnly at his hands as he strafed quietly into the shadows. The steel hook and line that he held in his hand still glistened through the impeding darkness that fell over Gaiden like a blanket. The hook draped down to his elbow as he curled his arm, letting the line loose and slide over his palm. There was the quick, low whistle of rushing air as the flash of silver spun like a cyclone before a dim outline in the darkness, and launched itself high up alongside the small tower above. It barely caught on a ledge between two flagpoles, and held.

Gaiden took a deep breath, and slowly made his way up to the window where the foreign Hume Magus (Wyborn) had been watching him from earlier. He guessed it was the library, going on simple intuition. His hands were rough and callused from sword practice, and his grip was strong. He was quickly balancing between the two flagpoles as he wrapped up the grappling hook, and slowly pushed open the window before climbing in. 

His eyes showed him everything, even in the dim light of a low-burning lantern. Rows and rows of bookshelves with two open doorways at either end of the room, alphabetized by class. Gaiden quickly pawned his way through the non-fiction section, looking for more of an encyclopedia. He found a few titles as good as any, and set them on the table near the light of the candle. He took the lantern and moved to close the doors to this compact but roomy domed library tower, until he felt the rough, hard tap on his shoulder of a tough oak staff. Gaiden sighed deeply.

"Well, well," there was a gentle snigger of a deep, rich voice behind him. "Are we playing somewhere we shouldn't be?"

Gaiden didn't answer, and the voice didn't expect it. Instead, the speaker simply flicked his hand, drawing the curtains with his own kinetic prowess. The large oak doors shut with a slam that rang out through the room. 

"No loud noises in the library," Gaiden answered with a snicker at his own wit in this situation. The magician told him to turn around, and Gaiden's hand tightened. He reached for the musical dagger at his hip, but a hot blast of bluebell flame rushed past him, and his sheath caught the flames. It burned Gaiden's hands to try to break the jinx, and his willpower was sapped when he tried to do so. He sighed heavily again, turned and set the lantern on the table. He turned it up, and put his hands in the air.

He was looking into the eyes of a younger man than he expected, about forty or so, with hair slowly going from brown to gray. He was far more rugged than Gaiden had expected too: very old jeans, a denim shirt and muddy boots. He had a gnarled old oak staff, with a thick, heavy head. He was clearly used to handling a sword just as well.

The old Magus beckoned him to sit, and Gaiden didn't mind obliging. With a wave of his hand, the old man impatiently lit the chandeliers overhead and began pawning through Gaiden's suggestions. "_The Layman's Guide to Bewitchings, Curses, Jinxes, and All Manner of Magical Maladies._ Great choice, if you're looking for a paper-weight," the old man said, and the book flew out of his hands and ordered itself back onto its shelf. 

"What would _you_ know about why I came here?!" Gaiden half-yelled, genuinely confused by the old guy's behavior. _Maybe he's senile,_ Gaiden thought to himself, and prepared to make his thoughts public. "For all you know, I came here rob you."

"Yes, you decided to steal from a library. Retard." Without pausing, he moved on to the next book. "_Fortune-Telling Everyday Occurrences_. Closer, but still, the only thing half-right about this is the _Everyday_ part," he magicked it onto the table and the pages began flipping back and forth from the index to various pages, mostly about premonitions. 

"...Who are you, anyway?" Gaiden asked, half-stunned as he watched the ribbon sewn into the spine of the book mark page 329, the beginning of a chapter on "The Gift."

"The new guy. Now, here's an interesting title," the new guy said, looking down at the final book with fondness.

"Wyborn?"

"_Mr._," he italicized it, suddenly closing up the final book and tossing it _with his hands_ over to Gaiden. It knocked the wind out of the Familiar, a few thousand pages long. _FATE_ was printed on the title. "Now," Mr. Wyborn began again. "What would a street performer need to know about fate?"


End file.
